


Cypress Creek

by pinecontents



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: M/M, Medical Procedures, Post-Apocalypse, you have [1] new message
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 14:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19947889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinecontents/pseuds/pinecontents
Summary: What was Rhett up to in Cypress Creek when he didn't have his phone?(set during You Have [1] New Message by @its_mike_kapufty)





	Cypress Creek

**Author's Note:**

  * For [its_mike_kapufty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_mike_kapufty/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You have (1) new message.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264870) by [its_mike_kapufty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_mike_kapufty/pseuds/its_mike_kapufty). 



Some three hours after he was bitten, Rhett was back in Cypress Creek, standing outside the walled enclosure. The wall was a mishmash of privacy fence panels, plywood, metal sheeting, and other random scraps. It was about ten feet tall and topped with sections of razor wire, barbed wire, and unfriendly looking spikes fashion from scrap metal. It sort of put him in mind of a Mad Max aesthetic, if the prop department had sourced all their materials from small town rural America. 

There was no apparent opening. Rhett walked all the way around, inspecting it closely for an entrance, but couldn't find any. There were plenty of doors incorporated into the fence but none of them seemed functional. He knocked on a few and tried every doorknob he found to no avail.

His hand hurt. The wounds were fairly superficial—the nail ripped off the pinky and a gouge on the tip of the ring finger—but both had been slathered with hunter saliva. He'd cleaned and bandaged them as best he could, but there was an unpleasant burning ache and he knew they were infected.

Rhett was on his second circumambulation when there was a burst of static and a slightly distorted woman's voice spoke from nowhere.

“What do you want?”

He jumped into the air and looked around wildly. There weren't any speakers visible.

“It's an intercom. There's a scrap of radiator cover about three feet to your left. Pull it open and talk to me.”

Rhett found the hidden door and opened it. There was a speaker with three buttons, just like an apartment building would have. He pushed the button labeled TALK. “Hello?”

“Yeah, I'm here. What do you want?” The unseen woman sounded annoyed.

“Please, I need help. A hunter bit me--”

“A what now?” She cut him off.

“A...a zombie!” Rhett spluttered.

“Oh.” A pause. “So you're infected, and you want to bring the infection into our community, which we've worked so hard to make safe? I don't think so.”

Rhett squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head against the wall. He took a few deep breaths and hit the TALK button again.

“It was just a few hours ago and it's just the tip of my finger. The infection hasn't spread much. I don't know if you can help me, but coming here was the only thing I could think of. Please. I have someone I need to meet. A friend. I don't want to die before I get to see him. We don't have anything left but each other. I can't leave him.” His voice broke. “Please.”

There was silence from the intercom, but Rhett had the sensation that the woman behind the electronics was still listening. He pushed the TALK button again. “Look, what's your name?”

There was a pause, then the staticky voice replied. “Emily.” 

Rhett was surprised but pleased that she'd answered. It suggested that she wasn't going to tell him to fuck off.

“My name is Rhett. My friend is Link. Can you help us?”

Another few moments of silence, then more static followed by a huge sigh. “I gotta talk to some people,” said Emily. “You might want to sit down, it could be a while.”

Rhett took off his pack and sat with his back against the wall. The burning and throbbing in his fingers seemed worse than before. He couldn't tell if the sensation was real or just his anxiety running wild. After an eternity (really about thirty minutes), the speaker crackled and Emily said, “Brett?”

He scrambled to his feet and mashed TALK. “It's Rhett. R-H-E-T-T.”

“Oh, my bad,” said Emily. “Look, I got some other people here that want to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Rhett replied.

“Hello,” a different woman's voice came through the speaker. “My name is Christine and I take care of medical things around here. I need to ask you some questions about your bite.”

“Okay,” Rhett said again.

“How long ago were you bitten?”

“About...three and a half hours, I think.”

“Emily said it was your finger, is that correct?”

“My fingertips. Ring finger and pinky.”

“Are they, um, visibly infected?”

Rhett glanced down at his bandaged fingers. “I haven't looked since I bandaged them up, but there's nothing coming out from under the bandage.”

“Good, good,” Christine said. Rhett could hear her murmuring with another person. “Alright, that's what I needed to know. Matt's going to talk to you now.”

“Hey.” A laid back male voice. “Rhett, right?”

“Yeah,”

“You alone, Rhett?”

“Yeah. I'm traveling to meet a friend, but he's far away.”

“What weapons are you carrying?”

“Just a knife.”

There was a long pause and then Matt said, “A knife,” in a flat, incredulous tone.

“A hunting knife. From Cabela's,” Rhett clarified. “Not like a kitchen knife or anything.”

“Man, I don't even know what to say to that,” Matt said. Rhett imagined him shaking his head in amazement. He pushed the TALK button.

“It worked up until now,” he said defensively.

Matt's voice crackled out of the speaker a moment later and Rhett could tell he'd been laughing. “Okay, hang on a minute and I'll get right back to you.”

Ten anxious minutes of silence later, the intercom came to life and Emily spoke. “We've decided you can come in. No promises, okay? But we'll try.”

Rhett pushed the TALK button for what felt like the millionth time. “Thank you,” he said simply in a voice choked with tears.

“There's a tree behind you. I want you to put your knife and your pack down by the wall and then go stand against the tree with your arms up. Understand?”

He hit the button for the final time. “Yes.” Rhett's pack was already by the wall so he left it there and unbuckled the knife sheath from his belt. Feeling naked without his supplies, he went and stood at the tree as instructed.

The Cypress Creek people must have been watching him somehow because as soon as he was there he heard a door opening behind him. “Stay where you are,” a woman said. He recognized Emily's voice, free of static now. “Matt's gonna frisk you, so don't freak out.”

“Better than the TSA,” Rhett muttered. The person frisking him—Matt—heard and snickered. Rhett decided he liked Matt, but when he plucked Rhett's phone from his pocket, Rhett turned and reached to grab it. The other man stepped back, surprise in his eyes behind his 70s style glasses, and raised his fist.

“Hands up!” barked Emily. Rhett glanced in her direction and saw that she was holding an honest-to-god semiautomatic rifle. It was pointed at the ground for now but her expression was deadly serious. He turned and put his hands back up.

“Sorry,” said Matt. “I should have told you I was going to check it. You can have it back in a minute.” He resumed his frisk.

Rhett let out a sigh and leaned his forehead against the rough bark of the tree. He understood Cypress Creek's need for security but couldn't help feeling frustrated. Every minute that ticked by was another minute his infection could spread.

“He's clean,” Matt called to Emily. “You're good,” he said to Rhett, handing his phone back.

“Thanks.” Rhett stuffed the phone back in his pocket and went to grab his bag.

“I'll take that.” Matt swooped in and grabbed it by the strap. “Don't worry. I'll keep it safe while you see Christine.”

Rhett opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Emily. 

“C'mon, you can argue inside.” She jerked her head toward the compound. “You're gonna lose though, Rhett, so just let him keep it.”

~*~*~*

The door into the compound was cleverly camouflaged behind a plywood sheet. Once they stepped through, Matt threw a number of deadbolts and then he and Emily turned to stare at Rhett. He stared back.

Matt was tall enough to look Rhett dead in the eye, with curly brown hair, retro glasses and an equally retro mustache. He looked laid back but Rhett suspected he was much more alert than he seemed. There was a handgun holstered at his side. He had Rhett's pack slung over one shoulder and Rhett's knife in his hand.

Emily had a sharp face and dyed red hair with a few inches of grown out brown roots tied back in pigtails. She was wearing overalls and sneakers and had the rifle slung on a strap over her shoulder. It was a disconcerting look.

They looked like hipster kids playing at being tough, but Rhett had seen the steel in Emily's face and heard it in her voice, and Matt hadn't hesitated in raising a fist when Rhett reached for his phone. He knew they would have used force to protect their community if he'd presented a danger.

And what did they see when they looked at him? He stood before them, unarmed. A big man, diminished with fear, with a wild beard and wild hair, face creased in worry. The two last fingers of his left hand were wrapped in gauze with blood seeping through.

“C'mon,” Matt said. “Christine's getting ready.” He lead the way to the building at the center of the compound. 

It was immediately recognizable as a school, a long, low brick building surrounded by a lawn that was in the process of being turned into raised garden beds. A parking lot off to the side held several motor homes and campers. Rhett barely had time to take in any of the details before he was hustled inside.

It was eerily empty inside. Their footsteps echoed loudly as they walked down the silent halls. Posters for student activities and sports were still pinned to bulletin boards. A banner declaring, “Congrats, Class of 2019!” drooped sadly over the hallway. As Rhett passed underneath it, he briefly wondered how many of those grads had become hunters. It was an ugly thought, and he pushed it from his mind.

“In here.” Matt opened a door and ushered Rhett through. Emily stayed in the hall and stood outside the door, watching through the wired glass panel.

Rhett raised his eyebrows at the scene before him. It was a science lab, with a few rows of lab benches in the back of the room, and soapstone topped tables in front. A large chart of the periodic table hung in a place of honor on the wall. A few of the tables had been pushed together and draped with sheets. Two women, one dark and petite, one muscular and blonde, were laying out medical supplies on another table. They looked up as Rhett and Matt entered the room.

“Oh, you must be Rhett!” said the petite woman. She bounced out from behind the table and held out her hand. Rhett took it gingerly. His hand completely dwarfed hers, but she shook it energetically.

“I'm Christine, and this is Jen.” She gestured to the blonde woman, who gave a little wave.

“Uh, hi.” Rhett was a little unnerved by her cheerfulness, the setting, and the tray of scalpels he could see in the background. 

“I'm going to finish setting up, okay? Jen will take your medical history.” Jen left the surgical site and beckoned Rhett over to a desk at the front of the room. The teacher's desk, he assumed. Jen sat behind it and Rhett sat on a stool in front of her. He felt ridiculous and utterly lost.

“Take these.” Jen handed him two white pills and a Coke bottle filled with water. He inspected the pills closely.

“Is this...Xanax?” he asked. Jen nodded.

“We thought you might be a little nervous,” she said briskly before flipping open a spiral notebook. “Now, full name?”

“Rhett James McLaughlin.” He swallowed the Xanax. Jen was right, he was nervous.

“Birthday?”

“October 11, 1977.”

She looked up in surprise. “You don't look that old.”

“Thanks?,” he said.

“Well, you don't,” she said. “Height?”

“Six seven.”

“An inch taller than Matt,” Jen noted, shooting a look at the other man, who was standing in front of the door. He scowled at her and she smiled sweetly at him. It was the first real expression Rhett had seen on her face, and it transformed her completely.

“Weight?”

“Uh...I don't know. Less than it used to be.”

The medical interview went on, covering past injuries, surgeries, medications, allergies (“I'm sorry, did you say maple syrup?”), and a detailed description of the fight that lead to the injury.

“I can't believe you killed a hunter with a knife. Fuck's sake,” Jen muttered as she finished writing. She raised her head and looked Rhett in the eye for the first time.

“Emily said you were on your way to meet a friend. If this...doesn't work...” she trailed off, and then rallied, “how can we contact him?”

“You can text him, or call him.” Rhett went to pull his phone out of his pocket, but it wasn't there. He sprang up from the stool and slapped his front pockets, his back pockets, even his hoodie pockets. A wave of panic spread over him. He didn't know Link's number. There was no way to contact him without the phone. If what Christine was about to try 'didn't work', as Jen put it, Link would never know what happened.

“My phone! I have to find it!” Rhett ran towards to door but was stopped by Matt. His laid back demeanor was gone, and he held his gun unholstered at his side. Rhett froze.

“Sorry, man.” His voice was sincere. “We didn't tell you this before, but you can't leave this room unless you're cured or dead. Or I guess we could just kick you out right now and let you fend for yourself outside.”

Rhett slumped. “My phone,” he said helplessly.

“I'll get someone to look for it,” Matt promised. “We didn't go very far. It's probably right outside.”

“I'm ready,” Christine announced. Matt holstered his gun as Rhett turned and stood next to the makeshift hospital bed.

“What are you going to do?” he asked nervously. 

“How much detail do you want?” Her bubbly demeanor had vanished and she was all business now.

Rhett glanced down at his bandaged hand. “I want to know everything,” he said.

“Come sit,” she lead him back to the teacher's desk. Jen had abandoned it to sit at one of the lab benches in the back. She was writing in her notebook and not paying any attention to them.

“Ever since the outbreak started, I've been trying to study the walker virus,” she began.

“Walker?” Rhett asked.

“Yeah, like on The Walking Dead?” Christine said. 

“Oh,” Rhett replied. “We call 'em hunters. Same thing, really.”

“Yeah. Anyway, it's really hard to study something like that with no real equipment or anything. We know it's spread by saliva,” she nodded at Rhett's hand, “and takes 24-48 hours to turn a person. The closer the bite is to the brain, the quicker it is. You're lucky to have it at the end of an extremity.”

“Lucky,” Rhett repeated dully. 

“Relatively speaking, yes.” Christine clicked her fingernails on the desk and sighed. “About a month ago, a foraging party found the body of a person who had been bitten on the upper arm. The infection had spread up to their neck, but they committed suicide before being turned.”

Rhett winced. He understood, but that didn't make it any easier to hear.

“Yeah.” Christine noticed his expression. “It was bad. They called me because they knew I would want to study it, so I went out and did a dissection.”

“Oh gosh.”

“Don't sound so disgusted. I wouldn't have agreed to treat you if I hadn't done that. Skipping all the gory details, the infection seems to spread along the nerves. The ulnar nerve, in your case. What I'm planning on doing is similar to a Mohs surgery...” she stopped at his blank look. “Mohs is a technique dermatologists use to remove skin cancer. They take off as little as possible, look at it under a microscope to see if there are any cancer cells around the edges, and take a little more until all the cancer is gone.

“Now, I don't have access to a pathology microscope, but I do have a jeweler's loupe, so my plan is to excise any obviously infected tissue and then take a little more. I can't tell you how much that will be until I look at it, of course.”

She met his gray-green eyes with her dark ones. “Do you still want to go ahead with this?”

“I have to,” Rhett said simply.

Christine nodded. “Let's go. Jen! You ready?”

“Yeah,” the blonde woman came up and held out the notebook to Rhett. “Sign, please.”

He took the notebook and read the long paragraph she'd written. It was a medical disclaimer informing him of various adverse effects of his procedure, up to and including death by gunshot.

“Is this really necessary?” Rhett asked Jen. He was starting to feel the Xanax now.

“Informed consent is still important,” she declared. Rhett couldn't argue with that, so he signed with a flourish. He didn't date it because he wasn't sure was day it was.

Christine directed him to take off his boots, lie down on the table, and put his hand on a folded towel. Jen placed a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket so that only his hand and head were sticking out. She set up a light to illuminate his hand as Christine pulled back her hair, donned a mask, and put on a pair of gloves.

“Did you disinfect this? No saliva left?” she asked as she began removing the bandage.”

“Yeah,” Rhett said. The Xanax was really hitting him hard now. He closed his eyes and began to drift until Christine and Jen both gasped.

His fingers were uncovered now. He lifted his head and craned his neck to look. Rhett had known what to expect, of course—he'd seen plenty of bites on hunters by now. But seeing it on others and seeing it on himself was a completely different matter.

The wounds themselves had a blacked, gangrenous appearance, while the spreading infection showed as the bluish gray of severe frostbite. It had reached past his first knuckle.

His fingers looked dead.

His fingers were dead.

Rhett's head swam. He dropped his head back back onto the pillow and groaned.

“You okay there? You're not gonna pass out, are you?” Jen asked. She was watching Rhett while Christine examined his fingers, turning his hand over and looking at both sides.

“Nooo...?” he replied uncertainly. His head spun.

“I know it's hard, but try to relax.” Jen's voice was as soft as it was when she had asked about his friend. She brushed his hair back from his forehead. Rhett was immensely comforted by the small gesture. He closed his eyes and drifted as Christine injected a local anesthetic and had a long discussion with Jen about how much tissue should be removed that concluded with removing both fingers at the second knuckle, leaving him with two small stumps.

By the time Christine had sutured and bandaged his incisions, Rhett was somewhere between sleep and unconciousness.

“Alright, you're all done,” she announced. “I think it's a success.”

“Nnn,” Rhett mumbled in response.

Christine laughed. “I'll let you sleep it off and come check on it in a few hours. Somebody'll be in here if you need anything.”

~*~*~*~

A while later, Rhett swam back into conciousness. His head hurt, his back hurt, and his hand hurt. He was also incredibly thirsty.

A glance around the room showed that he must have been out for a few hours, based on the movement of the shadows. Christine, Jen, and Matt were nowhere to be seen, but a thin woman with long strawberry blonde hair was sitting at the teacher's desk playing a Nintendo DS. A handgun and a bottle of water sat on the table.

Rhett turned his head towards her. “Hey, can I get some water?” he croaked.

She started at his voice and nearly dropped the DS. “You're awake!” she said, and brought the water bottle to him.

“Can you sit up?” she asked. “If not, I'm gonna have to get someone to help. You're a big guy.”

“I think so.” Rhett carefully pushed himself up without putting any pressure on his left hand. Both fingers were swaddled in gauze and braced with a makeshift splint made of plastic that seemed to have been shaped with a heat gun. A wave of nausea swept over him at the sight.

“Oh gosh,” he muttered, holding his right hand to his stomach.

“You're not gonna puke, are you?” the blonde woman asked nervously. He shook his head cautiously and took the bottle of water when she held it out. He held it against his body with his left arm and unscrewed the cap with his right hand before taking a long drink.

“My name is Stevie,” the woman said. “I found your phone.”

Rhett spat out a mouthful of water. Stevie shrieked as she was splattered with droplets. “My phone! Where is it? I need to text Link--”

“It's okay, it's okay!” Stevie held up her hands. “I talked to him. He's fine. He knows you're fine. I told him you got your fingers amputated. He didn't like that much.”

“I bet,” said Rhett. Hearing that Link was fine and had been contacted was a weight off his mind, but he wouldn't feel completely satisfied until he spoke with Link himself. “So...where is my phone?”

“It's in the office with your other stuff. The battery died so I plugged it in.” She paused. “I can't believe you were out there with just a knife.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.”

“I wonder why,” Stevie replied dryly. “Hey, you wanna hop off that table? You can sit in the teacher's chair, it's pretty comfy.”

“Sure.” The teacher's chair was a padded pleather office chair, and it was much more comfortable than a stone tabletop. Rhett sank into it and stretched his long legs under the desk. Stevie sat across from him on a stool. They just looked at each other for a few long moments.

Rhett broke the silence first. “So...what is this place?”

“Hmm, how should I explain this?” Stevie rested her face on her hand and thought for a little. “It's sort of a combination community center and fort, I guess? This is where we have meetings and store communal supplies and hold classes. There's movie night in the auditorium, dances in the gym, that sort of thing.”

“Who is 'we'?” Rhett asked. “How many people actually live here?”

“Inside the wall? Maybe about 15. Mostly in the campers, but there are a few classrooms that have been turned into apartments. There's a couple families with little kids who live there. It's safer for them. Most people actually live outside, in fortified houses. I don't know exactly how many live outside, because some come and go, but maybe a couple dozen?” She shrugged.

“People from here? From Cypress Creek?”

“Mostly,” Stevie said. “There's some people from elsewhere, but we aren't exactly on a main road, y'know? Not too many people come by here. Where are you from?”

“Buies Creek. I've been wandering for a while but now I'm going to head to Fayetteville.”

“To meet Baby Blue?” Stevie said with a mischievous grin.

Rhett groaned. “Man, no one else was supposed to see that.”

“I think it's cute,” Stevie said. “Also, he knows that's what you have his number saved under now.”

Rhett stared at her and then shook his head in disbelief.

“Tell me about him,” the blonde woman said. “What's he like? How'd you meet him?”

“I was wandering all by myself,” Rhett began, “and I started texting my ex's phone. She never responded, of course, but her phone was plugged in at her work and Link found it while he was exploring. It just so happened to be as I was texting her and he responded, and we never stopped.

“He saved my life,” Rhett said quietly. “I didn't really have anything to live for—my family was gone, my work, my neighbors, everything. I was just going to wander until I died. But it all changed when we started talking. We're just...so in sync. It's incredible, how someone I've never met in person could become so important so fast. Link is smart and resourceful and kind and funny, but I know he's had a hard life. I just...want to be there for him, and protect him, so he doesn't have to be scared or lonely anymore.”

Stevie cocked her head to the side and examined him for a moment. “He's not just your friend, is he?”

“I...what?” Rhett blinked at her.

“Listen to yourself, Rhett!” Stevie threw up her hands. “That's not how people generally talk about their platonic friends. You want to be there for him so he isn't lonely or scared? Sounds pretty romantic to me. You have him in your phone as Baby Blue, for goodness sakes!”

She pointed a finger at Rhett. “And you know what? I talked to him and he doesn't talk about you like a platonic friend either. Maybe you need to talk about that.”

“But...I...” Rhett stammered. Stevie's observation had triggered something in him, opened a door that he didn't even know existed. He felt like he'd missed the last step on the staircase and the ground was gone beneath him.

Stevie stood up suddenly, the stool scraping loudly across the linoleum floor. “I'm gonna go get Christine.” She grabbed her DS and gun and swept out the door, leaving Rhett open-mouthed behind her.

~*~*~*~

Rhett sat alone at the front of the class and thought about what Stevie had said. He started at the periodic table poster.

Lithium, nitrogen, potassium.

Link was his best friend, but was he more than that? Rhett had never met the man, never seen a picture of him, never even spoken to him on the phone. He knew that internet relationships and long distance dating were a thing, but is that what they were doing?

It was true that Rhett had called him attractive. It was true that Rhett had promised to hold Link when he was scared. It was true that Rhett had grown to depend on Link, to crave his presence, wanted to make him laugh as much as possible. Those weren't the sort of things he generally did with friends (although it had been a long time since he'd had anyone who was more than just 'a friendly coworker to go get a beer with after work sometimes') but they were things he did when he was romantically interested in someone.

Oh.

Oh no.

Lithium, nitrogen, potassium.

He was falling for his best friend.

~*~*~*~

By the time Christine came back, Rhett's thoughts had moved on to Stevie's second comment: Link didn't talk about him like a platonic friend, either. What had he said to give her that impression? He thought back on his conversations with Link, searching for clues.

Link had tried to stop Rhett from coming to Raleigh, and then when Rhett blocked his number, went from “I thought you cared about me” to “please answer me” within a few hours, which was a pretty extreme reaction for a 'just friends' relationship. Which, in fact, was how he characterized their relationship more than once.

Yes, Rhett concluded, the gentleman doth protest too much. He's totally into me.

“Rhett, are you listening?” Christine said in exasperation. She pulled the jeweler's loupe from her eye and looked at him. Rhett had been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed her removing the splint and the bandage. His naked stumps were bare for the world to see, black sutures pulling the raw edges together. They made Rhett a little sick to look at, but he forced himself to. This was his new reality.

“I said, there doesn't appear to be any infection. Healing should be pretty uneventful at this point, barring any secondary infection. I'll give you some antibiotics. The sutures will need to come out in 5 to 10 days. You're traveling, right, and planning on leaving soon?”

Rhett nodded.

“You'll have to remove them yourself, then. Don't worry, it's easy,” she waved a hand at his apprehensive face, brushing his worries away. “I'd like you to stay until tomorrow morning so I can check for infection one last time. Is that okay?”

Rhett nodded again. “I can't imagine traveling anywhere else tonight, to be honest. Would you take the rest of the finger if there were any signs of infection?”

It was Christine's turn to nod. “I really don't want to do that, though. Oh!” She turned as the door opened. “Emily's here! She'll show you where you can stay.”

Emily sat on one of the tables and swung her legs as Christine rebandaged Rhett's hand. Her hair was down and she didn't have the assault rifle. It made her look much more approachable, especially because she was smiling as well. 

“C'mon,” she said as she hopped off the table and beckoned Rhett to the door. “Your stuff is there, too.”

“My phone?” Rhett asked.

“Yup,” Emily said. “You're gonna stay in Matt's camper because he left on a hunting trip and he said that he knew you'd fit in his bed. It's queen size! In a camper!” She continued chattering as they walked down the hall and out a door that lead to the parking lot. A sort of outdoor kitchen was set up off to the side, with a couple people working on a large grill. Patio tables and chairs were scattered around and several of the trailers had flower pots outside. It was a delightfully homey place and Rhett loved it instantly.

“Okay, here we are,” Emily announced and pulled open the door of a battered white and blue popup camper. Rhett stepped inside a little apprehensively but was surprised at how nice and roomy it was. Everything was stowed neatly away. There was a small dinette with a table and benches, a galley with a sink and two-burner stove, and a queen sized bed as promised. Rhett's bag sat on the bed.

“Kitchen doesn't work, so you have to go inside for water. Bathroom, too. I'll let you get settled in and bring you some dinner later,” Emily said and waved to Rhett as she went out the door. He barely noticed as he went to the bed to get his phone.

He was distracted by a note written on the back of one of the club fliers from inside the school.

Hey man,

We don't have any guns to spare but I just can't let you go with only a knife, so I got you an upgrade. 

Best of luck.

Matt

The upgrade was a beautiful axe with a three foot hickory handle. A homemade sheath of what appeared to be deer skin protected the sharp edge of the blade and had a loop so he could attach it to his belt. Wonderful as the axe was, though, Rhett only had eyes for the phone in a wood-grain patterned case that lay beside it. He snatched it up.

Some time later, after he'd texted Link and taken the axe outside for a few experimental swings, Emily came back with a bowl of incredibly good venison chili (“We eat a lot of venison here and you'd think we'd get sick of it but this guy Josh...”). They sat at a patio table under a buzzing sodium light and made small talk as dusk fell. It was nice to be able to relax in a safe place where all his needs were taken care of by other people, sort of like staying at a nice hotel. He said as much to Emily, who burst into laughter and they sat giggling together in the ugly orange light.

Soon Rhett excused himself to bed—he'd had a very trying day. Matt's bed was surprisingly comfortable for a camper bed, and once he got situated he texted Link again to tell him a bedtime story and that he missed him. Link replied that he loved the story and that he missed Rhett, too.

Rhett tried to sleep, but his thoughts kept returning to the realization that he was falling for Link, and that Link probably liked him as well. Damn that Stevie. Didn't she realize that he already had enough to worry about? But he couldn't bring himself to really be annoyed with her, because he suspected her observation might really be a gift. Rhett was realistic enough to recognize that he'd been very lonely for a long time, the chances he'd meet someone were slim (after all, the world population had plummeted, people were scattered all over the place, and Tinder didn't work anymore), and he was moderately oblivious. He'd known Cassie for years before they got together, and it was at her suggestion. He needed all the help he could get.

And then, of course, there was the small detail that Link was a man, and Rhett was straight. This didn't bother him as much as might be expected for someone who grew up in a conservative Christian environment, but he'd somehow managed to escape without a load of prejudices.

But Rhett wondered now if his background had prevented him from fully knowing himself. Could he have been interested in men the whole time and just never realized it? Had he always just assumed he was straight, because that's what was expected of him (and what he expected from himself)?

He thought some more. There had certainly been men, both celebrities and people he knew in real life, that he'd found attractive. He'd always thought it was in just a “this person is objectively attractive” way, but upon further reflection there may have been some sexual attraction there. Hmm. There'd never been a romantic attraction to a man, though, he was knew that.

The Kinsey scale was a thing, right? He couldn't remember exactly how it worked, but Rhett was pretty sure there was a category for something like “mostly straight but a little bit not”. Like 90%/10% or something. That was probably where he was, he concluded. Link just happened to be in the 10%.

That being satisfied, his thoughts returned to Link. Brave, kind, thoughtful, funny, Link. Link who he suspected really was attractive, even if he protested. Blue eyes, silver hair...Rhett lost himself in a fantasy and was surprised to find himself hard with his hand down his pants. He spent about a millisecond thinking about whether it was rude to jerk off in someone else's bed, decided it probably was, and then did it anyway.

~*~*~*~

The next morning, he woke up to sunlight streaming in through the mesh panels of the camper. His back didn't hurt—a minor miracle—but his hand did. It also strangely felt like his fingers were still there.

Rhett wandered inside to use the bathroom and see if he could track down Christine. He ran into Stevie, who directed him back to the lab with a knowing smirk. He tried to scowl at her but failed, causing her grin to get even bigger.

Christine was delighted to see him and even more delighted to see that there was absolutely no sign of infection. “It would have spread by now if it were there,” she said before declaring him cured. She gave him a page of handwritten instructions and a bottle of antibiotics before teaching him how to bandage the wounds.

“Keep the brace on until the incisions heal up and you take the sutures off,” she instructed. “You won't have access to a doctor if they separate, so it's important to keep them protected.”

“It feels like they're still there,” Rhett said as he clumsily strapped the brace on.

“Phantom limbs,” Christine said. “Your brain hasn't caught up to the fact that they're gone. The sensation should fade in time.”

“So, uh, what did you do with them?” Rhett asked.

“Your fingers?” replied Christine. “I put 'em in formaldehyde to study later. Unless you want them?” He shook his head. 

“Christine,” Rhett's voice broke. “I can't thank you enough.”

“It was my pleasure,” she said sincerely. “Knowing I was able to save even one person...it's enough.” She hopped up and came around the table and put her arms out to Rhett. She was so short and Rhett was so tall that sitting, he was the perfect height to hug her. They wrapped their arms around each other tightly.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Rhett whispered again. Christine laughed and patted his back.

“Don't you have somewhere to be?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” He grinned at her. “I have a date.”

“Let's get you some breakfast and you can be on your way.”

~*~*~*

Breakfast was eggs (“We have a coop outside the wall. Walkers aren't interested in chickens.”) and venison steak, a far better breakfast than Vienna sausages. After finishing, Rhett returned to Matt's camper to pack up his things. He scribbled a message to Matt on the bottom of Matt's note, thanking him for the axe and the use of his camper.

When he was ready to go, Christine, Emily, and Stevie escorted him to the gate. He hugged all of them, and there were tears all around. They made him promise to return if he ever happened to be in the area again, and he was happy to agree. 

Finally, Emily unbolted the door and opened it. She peered outside and announced it clear. Rhett stepped over the threshold into the wilderness outside the wall. It might be full of hunters and wild animals and other survivors who might not be friendly, but Link was outside the wall too. As much as he enjoyed his stay at the compound, he had to go.

The last thing Rhett saw before the door closed was Stevie, giving him a thumbs up and a shit-eating grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Per @its_mike_kapufty, this is canon
> 
> And if you're wondering where his guitar is, he hid it in a garage or something to pick up later.
> 
> Feel free to visit my blank tumblr @pinecontents


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